


My mess, your mess, our mess

by Anuna



Series: Love You Three [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Cooking, Detective OT3, Domestic Fluff, Domesticity, F/M, M/M, Multi, Tiny bit of Angst, my happy place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 07:12:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8134936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anuna/pseuds/Anuna
Summary: Sometimes the mess doesn't have to be cleaned right away. (Grant, Skye, Lincoln and the kitchen)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Daisy's prompt: Detective OT3- Among our lovely OT3, who is the better cook? What is their signature dish? Is there a different person who is the baker? Who keeps their apartment the cleanest? Who is a total slob (if anyone)? Has anyone ever accidentally dyed an entire load of whites into pink b/c they forgot something red in the washer? What hidden talents do they each have?

  


* * *

Skye is a kitchen slob, in sense that she doesn’t like to tidy things up. She has to keep lot of things neat at her work, and often has to clean up all kinds of mess and when she comes home exhausted, she doesn’t really care where she put a shirt or her handbag. As long as she can find it of course - and if she can’t, usually Grant can because he is talented like that. Her place is clean, but things are dropped, left and strewn all over, and then tidied up in one swoop when she has time and energy. There are all sorts of things on a kitchen counter - mail envelopes and postcards, newspaper, bills, leftover bagels, various knick - knacks that might or might not have a meaning. She can usually find the stuff she needs because it’s  _ her _ mess. (So yeah, dying the white underwear in different shades of pink, that would be her. Which is okay when she’s on her own, but when you add two men, one of which INSISTS on having his undies perfectly white, it becomes a hilarious challenge that Lincoln turns into hilarity by parading around in Grant’s pink boxers and taunting his partner to come and get them.)

Grant’s reaction, upon seeing her place for the first time was “Oh my God”. Lincoln just grinned because he knew this was bound to get interesting. Grant is, by far, the tidiest among the three. His apartment is always clean, his things are always neat, his books are sorted alphabetically ( _ Seriously, Ward?? Seriously? _ ), he is  _ that _ guy. 

Lincoln is neat himself but not that neat, so following Grant’s rules isn’t hard for him. But Skye, she’s like a hurricane that turns both Grant’s life and apartment upside down. 

Lincoln is somewhere in the middle, as he can adapt to both of them. His place is cozy and nice and he has tons of good music and an awesome couch. Skye buys him cushions and pillows every now and then, thus Lincoln’s place is their favorite place to stay when they’re together. By the turn of events he and his apartment become the safe haven, with food and blankets and enough space for all three. 

Tonight is treat time for Skye. She stretches on the couch, taking up more space than necessary and observing her two men as they prepare the dinner. Grant is the chef; the tidy, precise and focused, while Lincoln provides commentary, jokes and adds cooking utensils. He turns to her whenever Grant huffs in annoyance ( _ Can you please, focus, Linc? Why are you so distracted? _ ) and Skye bites her lip not to laugh out loud. She knows what he’d like to do, so she gets up and walks over to them, squeezing in between her two tall guys, each arm around one. 

“Hey Skye,” Grant says, grinning. The pasta he’s making smells delicious, and she’s hungry. “Why’d you leave your favorite spot?” 

“You were wondering,” she says, while pulling him down to kiss him, “Why Lincoln is distracted.” She parts her lips and Grant nearly drops a spoon and Lincoln is chuckling next to them. 

“Right,” Grant says when they part, his eyes dark and unfocused. “One track mind,” he says. He tries to kiss her again, but she teasingly moves away. 

“Feed me first,” she says, Grabbing Lincoln’s hand to stop him from getting too adventurous. Then she turns to him and kisses the smirk off his lips.

  


* * *

Skye needs something to occupy herself. 

Lincoln is in the hospital, and he will have to stay there for another twenty four hours. The wound isn’t that bad, it’s not big, he’s not in critical condition and he will recover just fine. In a few weeks he’s going to go back to work, and the very thought of that makes Skye feel like she’s trying to dig her heels into quicksand. 

Sure she saw him wounded before. He had a gunshot wound when they first met, but this time is different. She braces herself against the sink and looks around the familiar kitchen, and the space they all share. 

He was bleeding so hard, and he was pale and he looked afraid as she, Kara and Mack all had their hands on him, and Grant was waiting outside, _ alone _ . And all she was able to do was to hand stuff to Kara. otherwise the doctor would notice how her hands were shaking. Mack held her as doctor took out the bullet out of his arm, and she kept wondering if it would ruin his pretty dragon tattoo. 

Grant is there now. Lincoln is probably asleep, after everything they’ve done, after IV and painkillers and a shot of benzodiazepine that was supposed to help him sleep. She knew Grant wasn’t going to sleep, and neither was she. So she set out to make herself busy. 

She hadn’t made anything sweet in ages. Grant was the one who determined their menu most of the time, and since they moved in together, Skye’s eating habits improved. But tonight she just needed something that could help her through the shocked, numb state she found herself in. She saw the entire procedure, she was there and briefly she was able to hold his hand and just before he fell asleep she managed to kiss the top of his head. Kara hugged her then, long and hard and told her to go home. So she did. 

She was ready to collapse onto the floor after the second batch of brownies, when she heard the lock. It was Grant. He looked about the same way she felt, and yet he managed to give her a smile. 

“Those smell delicious,” he said, leaving his jacket on the back of the kitchen chair. There were no comments about healthy desserts or amounts of sugar she was about to put in herself, and that somehow felt even worse than any of his comments would. 

“We… don’t really have ingredients for anything else I could make, and I really needed -” 

He was nodding and she was realizing that she came to the end of the line. She was holding it together up to now, thinking about how boys were strong for her, how they helped her after the bank shooting, but she never realized and never knew _ how _ it must had been for them.

“Come here,” Grant said and she practically threw herself into his embrace. God, she didn’t need sweets. She needed _ him _ . Him and Lincoln, alive and whole and safe. 

He held her while she cried. The kitchen was a mess nobody even touched until next day because they went to bed, hugging each other close so they wouldn’t feel the emptiness of it. Next morning Grant took a day off, and Skye was already free, and they went to hospital together, bringing the brownies with them. 

  


  



End file.
